


My dICK FELL OFF

by AngelCuttingOnions



Series: Trans Avengers Club. (We only have two members but we’re badass so fuck off) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Coming Out, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Coming Out, Crack, Everyone Is Alive, Gen, Human Disaster Clint Barton, I just prefer well, I kinda ignore Laura’s existence, Not Endgame Compliant Though, Nothing against MCU Clint, Self Loathing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Trans Clint Barton, Trans Peter Parker, binders, packers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelCuttingOnions/pseuds/AngelCuttingOnions
Summary: His actual worst fear came true. Now some people’s fears are clowns, or spiders, or getting kidnapped. That was not Peter’s worst fear.Because that one tumblr post where someone’s dick rolls away.





	My dICK FELL OFF

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Cas coping with gender dysphoria, with writing lowkey crack to make themself feel better. I am not FtM, however I am afab genderqueer so while I know some things, I’m going based on the information I have, hence why I didn’t go too deeply into stuff. 
> 
> Hello yes so uh Tony and Nat are alive because fuck you. Tony went into a coma because reasons and he lost his arm and now has a prosthetic which causes him and Bucky to fuckin yeet them at each other when they’re annoyed because _reasons_. Natasha is alive because Steeb traded the stone for her existence (I don’t even know if that would work but it’s a different universe FIGHT ME.)

Peter was walking through the newly rebuilt Avengers compound. He’d just woken up, and craved some form of caffeine. He shifted awkwardly as he walked, all he did when he woke up was throw on his binder and a hoodie, and stuff his packer down his shorts quickly, so the packer was wiggling around as he shuffled around the kitchen. 

If he’d been at home with May he wouldn’t have bothered with either the packer or the binder, but he wasn’t really “out” to any of the Avengers. Tony knew because he’s Tony and he knows things, plus it was slightly important information for his suit, and he thought a few others suspected something, but no one really knew anything for sure. But May knew, she supported him through everything, helping him pay for what he needed even when they were tight on money, helped him on the days where the dysphoria got to be too much, and the day he told her she dragged him to a secondhand store to buy masculine clothes, then helped him pick a new name. 

But he wasn’t at their apartment because he was 18 and May was encouraging him to have a little bit of independence. He personally would have preferred to stay at home but she was insistent that he saw what the world was like without an overbearing mother figure around. (Her words.) 

Tony had offered him his own room at the compound, and May practically shoved him out the door and dragged him to the room prepared for him. It was pretty easy to have time to yourself as long as no one was crawling around in the ceiling vents, or picking your lock, or accidentally throwing someone’s arm through your door. There were two arms to be thrown now that Tony finally had his prosthetic. After he’d snapped Thanos and his army out of existence he’d gone into a coma, and his arm had to be amputated.

If you seriously wanted some alone time, they’d give it to you, but as soon as you left your hallway (bathroom, bedroom, closet) you were bound to run into someone. That brings us back to when Peter was shuffling into the kitchen looking for caffeine. Peter was not a coffee drinker so he went straight to the fridge and felt around for an energy drink. He found a Monster. He popped open the tab and chugged it, then grabbed another one. (He tried to blame it on his fast acting metabolism, but everyone knew that was bullshit.) 

He crushed the first can in his hand and dropped it in the recycling bin below the sink, and turned around to shuffle back out of the room when he spotted Clint walking in with an empty coffee pot in his hand. He looked generally awake so it was safe to assume the man had at least one pot that morning. Peter shifted his hips, wondering why he didn’t bother with the proper underwear that morning, and then his actual worst fear came true. 

Now some people’s fears are clowns, or spiders, or getting kidnapped. That was not Peter’s worst fear. His eyes bugged as he felt his dick fall down his pant leg and hit the floor. It had bounced at least two feet, and the plopping noise it made echoed in his brain. He was still making eye contact with Clint, and they both looked down at the same time. Peter was panicking. He didn’t know if any of the Avengers were transphobic. What if Clint was? And what if he told the team? He would never be able to go back there. 

Only a few seconds had passed when Clint finally spoke, but it felt like much longer. “I _hate_ it when it does that.” He placed the empty coffee pot on the counter, grabbed a fresh one, and walked away. 

Fast forward through much internal screaming, Peter snatching the fallen dick, shoving it in his pocket, then loading up on energy drinks and making a mad dash back to his bedroom. He spent the next two hours sitting alone in his bedroom chugging the caffeinated beverages, crushing the cans into marble sized balls, and hating himself. Oh also binge watching Netflix as a coping method, Sherlock had finally come out with a fifth season after seven years, and he found it hilarious how much the main character looked like Dr. Strange. 

He was in his blanket fort of self loathing and hatred when he heard tapping coming from the ceiling. He mumbled a quiet not-answer which Clint took as an invitation to push open the vent and drop to the floor. “May I join you in your fortress of solitude?” He got a shrug in response. Which Clint couldn’t actually see due to him being under a blanket or three. “Dude I’m moving the blanket, you better have pants on or I’ll scream.” With that he pulled back the assorted layers of blankets, shoved Peter over, and made space for himself by dropping all the crushed soda cans on the floor. 

“You’re picking those up later.” 

“Excuse you? They were in _your_ bed. I just saved you from weird back pain in the middle of your self hatred nap.” Clint sat cross legged on the bed and stared at Peter. “I gave you some alone time to process your thoughts but FRIDAY told me she was concerned so I figured I’d probably check on you.” He nudged the teenager in the shoulder. 

There was a moment of silence while Peter decided what he wanted to say. “You aren’t going to tell anyone, right?” He felt like he was about to cry. Wasn’t that just great. 

“Pete, my dear child-“ Clint pulled up his shirt to show two scars, one on each side of his chest. 

“Oh. So when you said you hated it when it did that-“

“I meant it literally. But even if my dick wasn’t rubber I would have made the joke because jeez kid you just can’t let that chance go to waste.” 

“So who else knows about... you know.” 

“Natasha, Phil, basically any of the team who have seen the scars and asked about it, or given me knowing looks. No one has tried to stab me if that’s what you’re asking. No wait I take that back, no one has tried to stab me over being a trans dude. I have been stabbed over bagels, coffee, raspberry ice cream, and throwing my dick at Bucky when he pissed me off. Bucky and Nat need better coping skills.”

Peter looked at him like he was crazy. “Why did you throw your dick at Bucky?” 

“He took my chicken nuggets and I got offended. It distracted him long enough for me to grab my nuggets while he screamed, it’s like he hasn’t seen a disembodied dick before or something.” 

“What the fuck man.” 

“Hey if you’re done with your self loathing do you wanna go play pranks on Sam and Bucky? I’m bored and we’ve been having too much deep emotional talk.” 

Peter shrugged. “Lemme make sure my dick is on properly so it doesn’t roll away again. Get out of my room.”

And with that, the archer flipped Peter off and disappeared into the ceiling vents, shouting behind him, “I’m gonna go find the marshmallows to fill the showers! You’re in charge of the pigeon!”


End file.
